_Tan_. It is no use bending down; the water shrinks away as soon as it sees me coming. And if I do scoop it up and get it to my mouth, the outside of my lips is hardly moist before it has managed to run through my fingers, and my hand is as dry as ever. _Me_. A very odd experience, that. But by the way, why do you want to drink? you have no body—the part of you that was liable to hunger and thirst is buried in Lydia somewhere; how can you, the spirit, hunger or thirst any more? _Tan_. Therein lies my punishment—soul thirsts as if it were body. _Me_. Well, let that pass, as you say thirst is your punishment. But why do you mind it? are you afraid of _dying_, for want of drink? I do not know of any second Hades; can you die to this one, and go further? _Tan_. No, that is quite true. But you see this is part of the sentence: I must long for drink, though I have no need of it. _Me_. There is no meaning in that. There _is_ a draught you need, though; some neat hellebore is what _you_ want; you are suffering from a converse hydrophobia; you are not afraid of water, but you are of thirst. _Tan_. I would as lief drink hellebore as anything, if I could but drink. _Me_. Never fear, Tantalus; neither you nor any other ghost will ever do that; it is impossible, you see; just as well we have not all got a penal thirst like you, with the water running away from us. H. XVIII _Menippus. Hermes_ _Me_. Where are all the beauties, Hermes? Show me round; I am a new-comer. _Her_. I am busy, Menippus. But look over there to your right, and you will see Hyacinth, Narcissus, Nireus, Achilles, Tyro, Helen, Leda,—all the beauties of old. _Me_. I can only see bones, and bare skulls; most of them are exactly alike. _Her_. Those bones, of which you seem to think so lightly, have been the theme of admiring poets. _Me_. Well, but show me Helen; I shall never be able to make her out by myself. _Her_. This skull is Helen. _Me_. And for this a thousand ships carried warriors from every part of Greece; Greeks and barbarians were slain, and cities made desolate. _Her_. Ah, Menippus, you never saw the living Helen; or you would have said with Homer, Well might they suffer grievous years of toil Who strove for such a prize. We look at withered flowers, whose dye is gone from them, and what can we call them but unlovely things? Yet in the hour of their bloom these unlovely things were things of beauty. _Me_. Strange, that the Greeks could not realize what it was for which they laboured; how short-lived, how soon to fade. _Her_. I have no time for moralizing. Choose your spot, where you will, and lie down. I must go to fetch new dead. F. XIX _Aeacus. Protesilaus. Menelaus. Paris_ _Aea_. Now then, Protesilaus, what do you mean by assaulting and throttling Helen? _Pro_. Why, it was all her fault that I died, leaving my house half built, and my bride a widow. _Aea_. You should blame Menelaus, for taking you all to Troy after such a light-o'-love.